


Akaashi Keiji’s First Date

by Beewachan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi’s awkward and he’s got a crush, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I really don’t know what canon divergence means tbh but I think this is it, M/M, Summer, a lotta dialogue, just fluff, poor attempts at flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 17:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15611004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beewachan/pseuds/Beewachan
Summary: Akaashi takes someone out to raise money for the Fukurodani volleyball team, and he meets his next date in the process (when their waiter aggressively flirts with him).





	Akaashi Keiji’s First Date

“And what can I get for you, pretty baby?” The teenager who had introduced himself as Atsumu bears a charming grin as he conspicuously oversteps his boundary as a waiter serving a couple on their date night.

Keiji’s date’s jaw drops slack for a moment before she begins to say something along the lines of, “I have a b—” well, you know what would have come next if she had finished her sentence. Unfortunately for our darling, she follows Atsumu’s gaze toward Keiji, who dully recites an order.

“And for you, ma’am?” He asks with an equally sweet voice as when he speaks to Keiji; there’s a smile to accompany it, too.

Needless to say, the one-day relationship Keiji was sold into to raise money for the volleyball team does not go as planned. Keiji tries his best to show her a good time, but the waiter with the foreign dialect and the cute smile keeps winking at him, so, as you may imagine, this poses a problem — a very distracting problem, at that.

There’s the occasional ten seconds of eye contact when Atsumu was less busy, during which Keiji loses focus and fails to comprehend anything and everything his temporary girlfriend is saying. There’s also the time that Atsumu asks if they need more napkins, to which the volleyball team’s financial-contributor says no, but Keiji nods, and Atsumu brings back a stack of napkins, the one on top with something written on it.

Keiji attempts to read the message, but she says, “Keiji, I’m your date. You prostituted yourself to me, remember?”

“Not prostituted, physical contact doesn’t go further than a peck and hand-holding,” he corrects, almost ready to give her his full attention.

“Whatever, listen to my story, okay? But you can’t tell anyone! This is grade A tea!” she pleads, reaching across the table to hold his hands.

“Of course,” he nods, but his eyes glaze over the writing that says “meet in men’s room at 9:00?” Keiji wants to twist his face, disgusted by this blatant fuckboyery, but then his date would know he’s not paying much attention, so he sucks it up and waits for the clock to strike 8:59.

“As much as I love hearing about what Sanji is doing — or who he’s doing — could you please excuse me for just a moment?” Keiji gives her the small half-smile that he usually gives girls when he needs something from them as he grabs the napkin and crumples it in his fist, exiting the booth.

He walks past tables of families, couples, friends, and the like, almost bumping into a waiter carrying one, two, three, seventeen glasses on a tray (that would’ve been a mess) before he finally makes it to the bathroom.

“Gorgeous!” Atsumu greets, “You made it!” He opens his arms for a hug that Keiji is too wary to step into.

“What do you want?” Keiji’s rather curt, and he knows it. For some reason, he tends to behave this way around people he finds attractive. His hands sweat, and he becomes flushed as well, and sometimes his breath hitches despite the immense cardio he does every week, but never mind that.

“Your number?” Atsumu reaches into his pocket to pull out paper and pen, but as soon as he does, a well-dressed man, about five centimeters taller than Koutarou, Keiji gages, with slicked back hair steps out of a stall.

“Atsumu! I told you to stop flirting with the customers! Get back to work!” He reprimands.

“I’m on break,” Atsumu pouts in retaliation.

“Not anymore, you’re not.” A stern look drives Atsumu away. “Gosh, what am I going to do with him? I’m sorry about that, _mate_ ,” the man, presumably the boss™, apologizes, “I’ll throw in free dessert for your troubles.”

Keiji doesn’t know what a _mate_ is or why this man said it in English instead of translating to his heavily-accented Japanese, but he thinks he heard an Australian man say it in a reality TV show, so he assumes from the context of their conversation that it’s nothing important. He assured the boss man that everything’s fine (but his date later decides to cash in on the free dessert, anyway).

Unsurprisingly, another waiter was assigned to Keiji and his pretend lover’s table when he returns, but when they walk out the door, Atsumu says loud enough for them to hear, “Hey, I never got your number!” (A scolding is also heard soon after.)

Keiji walks her home, hand in hand. It’s the least he can do after putting her on hold for two of the ten hours she paid for.

“I love how cool and refreshing your hands feel,” she grins at him.

“Thanks, they're calloused beyond belief, though,” he says because, well, he’s awkward.

“I like them.”

Keiji is glad when he sees her door in a short distance, but when they’re standing on her porch, and she hasn’t made a move to pull out her keys, Keiji starts to worry. She knows what she’s waiting for, he knows what she’s waiting for, and come on, they’re standing close in the moonlight outside her family’s front door, you know what she’s waiting for.

So he does it, like ripping off a bandaid. He quickly crashes his lips against hers and pulls away just as swiftly. “Good night, Kuroo-san.” Yes, he took Kuroo Tetsurou’s sister out on a date (and he’s hoping there isn’t a follow-up).

He bows, and just before he moves to leave, she says, “Damn, Tetsu was right when he said you were awkward and probably gay. Don’t worry, I think it’s cute. Night, ‘Kaashi.”

“Night,” he repeats, blushing like an idiot and nearly tripping down the Kuroos’ doorstep. Tetsurou opens the door just in time to laugh at him.

 

 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

 

 

It’s the morning after Fukurodani’s volleyball team went on their fundraising dates, and Bokuto Koutarou calls Keiji demanding to meet up at their favorite diner for details.

Keiji wants to roll his eyes, but he knows Koutarou wouldn’t see, so the effort would be futile. “I don’t see the point of this, but I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Fourteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds later, Keiji’s sitting across from Koutarou, and a boy who Keiji is nearly one hundred percent sure flirted with him last night stands beside the table. “Can I take your order?” He asks monotonously.

Before Koutarou can spit out an outrageously specific order (it’s a hobby of his), Keiji says, “Weren’t you blond yesterday?”

“Uh,” he looks up like he’s thinking hard, “don’t think so.”

“Odd,” Keiji mutters to himself. “Sorry, you look just like someone I met last night.”

“Right, I forgot I have a twin.” He scratches the back of his head. “Atsumu, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Keiji answers, internally shaming himself for forgetting the dynamic, Hyogo-native twin duo at nationals last year. He knew something about Atsumu was familiar last night. Maybe that’s why he was staring at him so much.

Keiji was too busy zoning out to notice that Koutarou had already said his ultra-particular request, but now the other twin, Miya Osamu, if he recalls correctly, waits for him to order.

So, naturally, Keiji’s cheeks flush as he bows his head and apologizes profusely before asking for the same chocolate shake he always gets. Osamu nods and retreats to the kitchen.

“He looks super familiar,” Koutarou says, cocking his head. Keiji always found Koutarou’s strikingly similar appearance to an owl intriguing.

“One of the Miya twins from Inarizaki, remember?” Keiji says in his typical deadpan, but Koutarou just taps on the bright red table.

“Nah,” he shrugs. “How’d your date with little Kuroo go? You think she’s cute?”

“Nah, I’m gay,” Keiji says, readying a couple coasters for when the milkshakes arrive.

Koutarou nods, “Yeah, I know, I found gay porn on your phone last year.”

Keiji usually has a pretty good poker face, but lately the sheer embarrassment of existing has been dusting his cheeks with a rosy pink.

“You think I’m cute?” Koutarou cocks a pointy bleached brow and grins.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Koutarou’s smile widens as their shakes arrive, and he takes a sip with a sly smile.

“Anyway, the date was alright. She wanted to do that romantic walk on the beach thing at sunrise, and we hung out there for a while, but she wanted to swim, so we had to take a break to shower the salt water off, and I think she was sort of making fun of me the entire time, but she held my hand tight like it was keeping her alive, and we went to that stupid carnival with all those games I suck at except the pay-to-win one.”

“Awwwww,” Koutarou coos, “she held your hand.”

“Shut up. So, after another break, we got to the restaurant, and our waiter was our server’s brother, and he was flirting with me the entire time, and I kind of stopped paying attention to Kuroo-san, and I—” Keiji’s cut off by Koutarou.

“He was flirting with you?”

“He called me ‘pretty baby,’” Keiji almost murmurs, hoping his cheeks aren’t betraying him, but Koutarou has no problem roaring with laughter, dropping the exactly one and a half maraschino cherries that he ordered.

“And?”

“He gave me a napkin that said to meet him in the bathroom at nine, and I went because he was really cute, and he asked for my number, but then his boss came out from a shit stall and yelled at him and assigned someone new to our table.”

“Did you give him your number?” Koutarou has one of those annoyingly expectant grins plastered across his face, his eyebrows raised.

Keiji shakes his head. “No, I only saw him one more time when I was leaving to walk her home.”

“Damn it, Akaashi, you don’t know the next time you’ll find a cute boy who’s willing to shamelessly flirt with you,” Koutarou slams his palm against the table.

“Ugh, it’s hard talking to cute boys.”

“You talk to me everyday,” Koutarou wiggles his eyebrows.

“I’ve known you since I was one,” Keiji rolls his eyes.

“You were such a cute baby,” Koutarou smiles, like he’s more than a year and some odd months older than Keiji.

Pouting slightly, Keiji does something he never thought he would: He seeks Koutarou’s advice. “What do I do? He was really cute,” he groans.

“Go back to the restaurant and try not to be socially awkward.”

“What if he’s not there?”

“File a missing persons report,” Koutarou shrugs, and Keiji remembers why he doesn’t ask Koutarou for advice.

“No, Bokuto-san, that’s a terrible idea.”

After aggressively sipping on his milkshake, Koutarou grumbles something that Keiji deciphers as “Why’d you ask me? Call Tetsu, he’s good with this kinda stuff.”

“You want me to tell Kuroo I’m gay after I just took his sister on a date?” Keiji wants to facepalm, but he won’t since Koutarou’s on the verge of going emo because Keiji’s finally noticed that he’s too blunt.

“He already caught you staring while he lifted his shirt up last summer camp.”

Keiji frowns. “So that’s why his sister said he thinks I’m ‘probably gay.’”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Akaashi, I kept your secret safe! Told him you and Yukie were secretly dating and that he couldn’t tell anyone.”

“Bokuto-san, this is why despite her obvious crush on you she doesn’t like you very much,” Keiji sighs.

“What?” His hair seems to perk up as his eyes widen slightly.

“What?” Keiji aaks back, opting to sip on his milkshake instead of repeating himself.

“What were we talking about, again?” Koutarou twists his face like he's thinking real hard.

Keiji looks up again. “Cute waiter.”

“Where?” Koutarou does a 360 on the diner..

“No, the one from yesterday.”

“Oh, right, let’s go see Kuroo.” Koutarou grins bright and wide, and honestly, his excitement unsettles Keiji sometimes.

 

 

 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

 

 

“Knew it. All the second years are lining up to kiss my sister, but you squandered the opportunity, Akaashi! Squandered it! She even waited for you to do it!” Tetsurou speaks (shouts) as passionately as ever.

“She told you?” Keiji asks, mortified.

“I saw through the peephole!”

Koutarou can’t help but laugh at Keiji’s embarrassment. He pushes Keiji and Tetsurou to Tetsurou’s bedroom, making himself comfortable lying atop the Nekoma-red duvet when they arrive.

“Kuroo, the waiter called him ‘pretty baby,’” Koutarou says with a sly smile.

“Why’d you have to tell him that?” Keiji says with one of his numerous exasperated grimaces.

“‘Cause he needs to know how serious this is!” Koutarou exclaims, grabbing at Tetsurou’s waist and pulling him to the bed while Keiji sits at Tetsurou’s desk and turns the chair to face his friends.

“Bet you like being called a pretty baby, huh?” Tetsurou smiles, figuring he might as well have fun with this.

“Shut up, and help me.”

“Just suck his dick,” Tetsurou shrugs, like there’s nothing more to it than that.

“I’m having a little problem getting from here to sucking his dick, Kuroo-san,” Keiji says with the typical tone of irritation that he uses with Kuroo.

“True,” Koutarou chimes in, still hugging Tetsurou’s waist.

“You gay now, too?” Tetsu cocks an eyebrow.

“Want me to be?” Koutarou cocks one in return.

Fearing that Tetsurou may use his own dating advice, Keiji says, “I’m leaving.”

“Later, ‘Kaashi,” they speak in sync.

 

 

 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

 

 

It’s eight in the evening when Keiji decides that now’s as good a time to visit the restaurant as any. He’s glad he left when he did because he catches Atsumu walking outside — presumably for his break.

“Hey! Pretty boy, you’re back!” He smiles, showing off straight, white teeth.

Keiji wishes he could confidently smile at strangers like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but he can’t, so he fiddles with his fingers and tries his best to maintain eye contact. “Yeah, I am.”

“Never got your name, cutie pie.”

If Keiji’s being honest with himself, he likes the terrible pet names, and he thinks Atsumu could do without his actual name, but he introduces himself properly, anyway. “Akaashi Keiji. Nice to meet you,” he bows his head.

“No need to be so formal. I’m Miya Atsumu,” he keeps the smile on.

“I know, I saw you at a volleyball tournament.” Keiji didn’t really mean to say that because he knew it’d come off as creepy, but it slipped out involuntarily.

Atsumu seems unfazed. “Oh, yeah? What team are you on?”

“Fukurodani.”

“Right, with the owl-looking boy,” Atsumu nods in recognition.

“How come you’re in Tokyo?”

“Mom got tired of my brother’s crack addition and my reciting of Shakespearean translations at three in the morning, so she sent us over here to scrape by for ourselves,” Atsumu says with a straight face and a shrug.

Keiji’s jaw drops before he realizes he’s been had. He doesn’t find it as funny as Atsumu does

“Oh my god, you should’ve seen your face! I’m kidding, of course. She’s doing some traveling, so she wanted us to stay with our aunt for the summer and get jobs to teach us responsibility, or something like that.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Keiji says, and he notices the tips of his fingers have found their way back to each other.

“I guess. You getting anything? Can I serve you?”

“Uh, no, but you can sit with me,” Keiji suggests hopefully.

“Smooth, Keiji, but I think my boss would kill me. Wanna come back at eleven?”

Keiji nods, getting a bit closer to Atsumu, who’s backed against a wall of ivy. “Sure.”

Atsumu opens his arms for a hug, hoping he’s successful this time, and what do you know? He is. Keiji’s a long hugger. He didn’t back off for at least twenty seconds — he gets distracted by things like cologne and the rhythm of Atsumu’s breathing, and the feeling of Atsumu’s wide frame against his chest.

“I think my break’s over,” Atsumu says, and Keiji backs away slightly and slowly, “but I’ll see you later.” Atsumu lets his fingers graze Keiji’s jaw. “Don’t forget, dollface.”

“Of course not.” Keiji feels the heat rise to his face where Atsumu touched him.

 

 

 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

 

 

“Shit, he’s lovely; I think I’m going to die,” Keiji whispers into his phone.

“Don’t you have to meet him in, like, eight minutes?” Koutarou asks from the other line.

“Yeah, I’m waiting outside the back of the restaurant, but how do I do this? Do I just ask for his number, or should I wait for him to ask, and what do I talk about? How do I make friends? Or a boyfriend?” Keiji rambles as the backdoor swings open.

“Oh, you’re back here? I was just about to meet you after I threw this out,” Atsumu says, gesturing with the heavy duty garbage bag in his hand.

“H-hey,” Keiji says, dropping his phone when he hears Atsumu’s voice.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Atsumu chuckles, using his free hand to pick up Keiji’s phone (he would totally put his number in it, but he’s sort of holding a giant bag of garbage right now) and hand it to him.

“Thanks.” Keiji opens the door to the dumpster for Atsumu.

“Likewise. Be out in a second, gotta clock out.”

“Alright.” So, Keiji waits a second, and he forgets that he was on the phone with Koutarou until he hears a very, very loud noise come from it. He holds up the phone “What happened?”

“I just needed your attention. Okay, so I told Kuroo everything you were saying, and then we listened to your conversation with him, and we think he’s a fuckboy, and you should run away,” Koutarou says.

“Bye, Bokuto-san.”

“Hey! Are you leav—” Keiji cuts off his voice with the end call button.

No more than two seconds later, Atsumu walks out the backdoor, this time without the waist apron and garbage bag. “Wanna do something?” Atsumu grins at Keiji.

With a nod, Keiji says, “Sure, but can I ask you something first?”

“Shoot.” He slings an arm around Keiji’s waist. Keiji isn’t used to being held, but he leans into the touch nonetheless.

“Are you a fuckboy?” (Nobody was around to say, “Oh my God, Keiji, you don’t just ask things like that!” when he was growing up.)

“I mean,” they listen to the crickets chirping while Atsumu curls his fingers in Keiji’s shirt, “some people think so.”

“One more question.”

Atsumu sucks in a breath hoping it isn’t as awkward as the last.

Keiji puts his arm around Atsumu now, too. “Are we on a date right now? I was supposed to be home an hour ago.”

“Definitely, unless you wanna postpone it to a time that you don’t have to be home,” Atsumu laughs.

“It’s okay, my parents aren’t home, and I reprogrammed the alarm. Where are we going?”

“Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been on a date after 10pm before.”

“Same,” Atsumu begins to walk to, well, nowhere, but Keiji walks alongside him regardless.

“Want to go to the park?” Keiji asks.

“Sure, lead the way.” Atsumu traces circles in Keiji’s obliques with his thumb. “You cool with the whole fuckboy thing?”

“I’d like to say no, but you’re very attractive, so of course I am.”

“Awww,” Atsumu coos, pulling Keiji tighter, “you’re beautiful, too.”

Keiji’s not sure how one is expected to respond to that, so he says, “Thanks.”

“What about you? Are you a fuckboy, Keiji?” Atsumu teases.

“Nope, this is my first real date.” Keiji takes a right turn once they pass the dumpster.

“You for real?”

“Not sure why I’d lie about that.”

Atsumu chuckles, “Well, forgive me if I’m wrong, but it looked like you were on a date last night.”

“Every year the volleyball team does that event where the players sell themselves to another person for ten hours to raise money.”

“That’s so cool,” Atsumu says with a voice that sounds kind of dumb, but Keiji likes it.

“If your date isn’t a creep, yeah.”

“Hey, what year are you in?” Atsumu asks, on a slightly less related note.

“Second.” Keiji doesn’t return the question because he remembers, but Atsumu tells him that he’s a second-year, anyway. “What are people supposed to talk about on dates?”

“Get-to-know-each-other questions, I guess.”

“I like the swings.”

“What?”

“At the park, I like the swings.”

“Want me to push you on them?” Atsumu offers.

Keiji smiles. It’s small, and only noticeable if you’re really looking, but it just brightened up Atsumu’s night. “Maybe. What’s your favorite thing to do at a park?”

“Make out, probably, or play volleyball if they have one of those dirt courts.”

“Is that what people are supposed to do on dates?” Keiji asks, sparing Atsumu a glance before clarifying, “Make out?”

“Why? You tryna smash?” Atsumu holds in his laughter when he sees Keiji’s face flush.

“No! Yes… maybe. I don’t know; I’ve never done this before,” not with a boy, anyway, but Keiji wasn’t about to say that part out loud because then Atsumu would ask about his heterosexual adventures, and there wasn’t much to them other than spending hours trying to strategize a master plan to rejecting numerous gorgeous girls without letting them know he’s very, _very_ gay.

“Done what?”

“Flirt.”

“You’re kidding.”

Keiji shakes his head. “I told you this is my first date,” he reiterates, and alas, they’ve reached the park.

“Crazy,” Atsumu says, pulling Keiji toward the swingset. “Hop on, babe.”

Keiji does as told, grabbing onto the metal chains on either side.

“How high do you like to go?” Atsumu looks down so his eyes meet Keiji’s.

It was dark, but Keiji could still get lost in Atsumu’s gaze. Keiji knows he’s being superficial — he barely knows the kid — but also knows he’s a whirlpool of emotions that falls in love easily. In fact, he thought he was in love with Tetsurou based off looks alone until he had a real conversation with him, during which Keiji decided he’s never going to do that whole “you're so beautiful, please bear my children” thing again. Obviously, staring up into Atsumu’s honey-colored eyes, he lied to himself.

“High,” Keiji says, and he has no idea how to kiss someone, but it can’t be that hard, right? Of course not, so Keiji grabs Atsumu’s shirt and pulls him down until he’s close enough for Keiji to lean in and place a chaste peck on his lips.

Atsumu smiles against it just before Keiji pulls away. “Was that your first kiss?”

“With a boy.”

“Didn’t think you were like that.” Atsumu rounds the swing to get behind Keiji and start pushing.

“Excuse me?”

“Going straight in for it like that, I didn’t think that was something you’d do.” Atsumu pushes Keiji lightly, leaving Keiji’s back burning from the touch.

“Oh, right. Me neither, but I really wanted to.” Keiji doesn’t seem to have a filter around this boy.

Atsumu smiles.

Fuck, Keiji’s so fucked. Absolutely destined for doom. Never going to see his friends and family again; he’s going to die tonight. This boy will send him into cardiac arrest.

“Anything else you really want to do?” Atsumu asks, and the suggestiveness in his voice makes Keiji finally understand why the fuckboy alarm in his head has been ringing this entire time. He ignores it, though. He’s having a decent time.

“Stare at you for, um, ever.” Ugh, he’s usually more articulate than this. What the hell is he doing?

“Guess that’s hard to do when I’m back here,” Atsumu says, grabbing the chains of the swing, placing his hands atop of Keiji’s.

“Yes, very. Make it easier.”

Atsumu flashes a toothy grin. “Love it when you tell me what to do.” He walks around the swing to face Keiji again. “Having fun now?”

“Indubitably.” Keiji grins. He _grins_. He never grins. A coy smile here and there, maybe a smirk, that’ll pass, too, but a full-on grin? When did he learn to move his facial muscles like this?

“You have a really beautiful smile,” Atsumu says quietly.

“How many people have you said that to before?”

“Just you,” Atsumu answers, and seeing the look of disbelief following a giddy laugh, he clarifies, “I’m not really a fuckboy — well, I don’t think so. I don’t talk to a whole lot of people back home because I usually spend, like, five hours playing volleyball a day. Osamu has, like, twelve girlfriends, though.”

“Fascinating,” Keiji stands up, bringing himself only a few centimeters away from Atsumu, “but I don’t quite believe you.”

“I can give you his snapcode, and once school starts again, you’ll see he has a different girl, or sometimes guy, on it for each day of the month, Keiji.”

Chuckling quietly, Keiji says, “Not that part.”

Atsumu’s flushes. “I'm not, Keiji, I swear.”

“You look like someone who calls people ‘baby’ because you can’t remember their names, even if you’ve slept with them five times.”

“I haven’t even done that before!” Atsumu defends, but when he realizes what he’s just told Keiji, he covers his face as more blood rushes to it.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Keiji says, not really knowing what else to say to be honest.

“Whatever, no, don’t be,” Atsumu says, his words coming out quickly like he isn’t thinking through what he wants to say beforehand. “I’m gonna charm you into believing I’m not a fuckboy.”

“No need to. Your embarrassment speaks for itself.”

“Shut up, I’m still gonna bring you flowers and romantic shit like that. Let me walk you home.” Atsumu gestures to lock arms with Keiji and turns to walk through a path of trees before he remembers he has no idea where Keiji lives.

“Okay, but I have to go to a volleyball camp in two days.”

“Then I’ll send flowers to your camp.”

“Please don’t.”

“I like that you’re so straight-forward, but you wound me, Keiji.” Hearing his name spoken so close to his ear sends chills down his spine.

Keiji leads the way back to his house. “This was a short first date.”

“Wanna make it longer?” Atsumu smirks, but his smile fades when he hears Keiji’s next comment.

Leaning further on Atsumu’s shoulder, Keiji asks, “What happened to that whole ‘charming me into believing you’ thing?”

“I can’t help it, sorry,” Atsumu says shamelessly, pulling Keiji closer.

Keiji feels a small grin tugging at his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. He only lives a few minutes away from the park, so the walk isn’t very long. It’s rather silent, not quite a comfortable silence yet, but not an uncomfortable one either.

 

 

 

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

 

 

“Yo,” Tetsurou calls, “Bokuto, look.” They both stop before entering the main dormitory at Shinizen.

Keiji was trailing behind, but once he rounded the corner, he saw why Tetsurou had stopped. He touches the petals of pink tulips while Koutarou holds up a vase and reads a mini card. “For: Keiji. Are you charmed yet?” Simultaneously, Koutarou and Tetsurou shoot Keiji shit-eating grins.

“Fuck off.” Keiji pushes past them, hoping that keeping his head down will hide his flushed cheeks.

His expeditious heart rate would answer Atsumu’s question itself.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u very much for reading leave a comment if u feel like it thx ur the best


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